Head whipping around, I saw a familiar blonde girl looking for me. A smug feeling overwhelmed me to know she had seen us together, her step faltering, eyes glancing between us.

“See you later, Rowan,” I said, pulling my feet out of the water.

“Yeah. See you later...”

I left him sitting alone by the pool as I followed Evie back into the house, arm linked through mine. 

We stayed another hour, Evie pulling me through the house to talk with this person and that. 

Rowan came back in to the party not much later than us. We didn’t speak again, but every time I caught a glimpse of him on the other side of the room, my heart began to oddly thud a little harder to realise he was already looking right back at me.

Finally, Evie decided to call it a night as she tugged me out to the street, walking back to her house.

“I kissed Joe,” she slurred.

Wincing, I replied in retaliation, “Rowan confessed to me,” uselessly wishing it would hurt her.

“And did you accept?” The grin was too genuine for my liking.

“I said we should be friends first.”

“You friendzoned him?”

“Not exactly. I just said he doesn’t know me.”

“You for sure friendzoned him. Poor dude. Joe said he’s liked you forever and they found out over the summer and just had to find a way to force you two together. Apparently you’re why he is such a playboy.” 

I was honestly surprised they even made conversation about anything but themselves or didn’t have their tongues down each other’s throat the whole time. “Don’t call him that.”

“Oh defensive! Careful May. I might assume you like him.”

“It’s not that. Look, out of respect for him I will only tell you the bare necessities, which is that he confessed. But he’s a good guy. Please don’t perpetuate his reputation.”

She came to a stop, turning to look at me, blinking through her blurry gaze. “Don’t use big words when I’m drunk.” And then she bent over, the contents of her stomach hurling onto the asphalt by my feet.

As Evie snored through the alcohol in the bed beside me, I pulled my phone out, clicking on his profile. Endless photos of him with this girl and that. Him drinking, him with ‘the boys’. Very few of his art. Everyone knew this him, the one who was a party goer, womaniser.

But the Rowan who sat by me at the pool tonight was different. He wasn’t drinking. He wasn’t a smooth talker or a lad. He was just a boy talking to a girl he liked as if he had never done so before. He reminded me of the Rowan who came through his art. 

Why did he not show this side of himself more? Why do so many hide behind the alcohol and people, instead of just being unapologetically them?

         I went to put my phone down, when the message icon lit up on my screen.

Clicking it, I noticed the very person I was just stalking had messaged me.

Rowan: Thank you for accepting my friend request.

Rowan: And sorry again for being a blubbering idiot.

Rowan: I’m not normally like this…

Me: The great Casanova finally met a woman he was unable to woo.

Rowan: Oh… you’re still up.

Rowan: I thought you wouldn’t read that until morning…

Rowan: And you’re different.

Me: Are any of us different? We’re all people, navigating this world.

Rowan: You’ve always stood out to me. Even if we are all the same at the end of the day.

A small smile slipped onto my face as the heaviness of my eyes began to overcome me.

Me: Goodnight, Rowan.

Rowan: Goodnight, May.